Teller
Since Grinderalready knows that Rock’s my father—or related to me in some way—I catch up with him at the next clubhouse bonfire.
“You seem to be more comfortable hanging around here now,” I point out.
“New parole officer isn’t up in my business as much.” He glances across the clearing at the girls, his gaze landing and staying on Serena. “Damn happy we got Grillo out of the picture.”
“Yeah.” Grinder’s release from prison hasn’t been as smooth as we’d all hoped it would be. His first parole officer was a bigger criminal than the criminals he supervised.
He glances at me. “What’s weighing you down tonight?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Nothing.” Liar. Just talk to him. I used to go to Grinder for advice all the time when I was a kid. Why does it feel awkward now? “Remember when you and Lucky taught me how to drive stick?” I ask.
The corners of his mouth curl slightly. “You wanted to restore the club’s old beater truck, but your skinny little ass didn’t even know how to work a clutch.”
“Almost every vehicle’s an automatic now,” I say, as if it even matters.
He flexes his right hand and rolls his shoulder. “Probably a blessing for me.”
I sip my beer and stare into the fire. The pull of the past and my present dilemma leave me with a need to search for answers. I haven’t stopped thinking about the possibility Rock and I are brothers instead of father and son since he mentioned it.
Grinder’s also staring into the fire. Like the story left him filled with regret instead of fond memories. Now I feel like shit for bringing it up. It’s not like me to beat around the bush.
“How’d you stand prison?” The two situations aren’t even remotely the same. But going to prison was something out of Grinder’s control. And out of control is how I’ve felt every day since I learned Rock was my father. Events that happened before I was even born have somehow gotten a stranglehold on my life.
He shakes himself out of his trance. “What?”
“The whole club knew you had nothing to do with Lucky’s death,” I explain. He has to know none of us ever blamed him, right? “How’d you stand it? Fifteen years inside for something you didn’t do would drive some people insane.”
Grinder stares at me with hard eyes. Obviously, he doesn’t appreciate the question. I don’t look away or apologize. The answer’s too important.
“Didn’t get fifteen years at first,” he reminds me.
“Yeah, but you never would’ve had the extra time added if you hadn’t been there in the first place.” I wave my hand toward the flames. “If Ruger hadn’t asked you to take out those punks.”
Another death glare. I’m begging for an ass-kicking if I keep it up. Ex-cons, especially biker ex-cons, are notorious for guarding their prison stories. No brother wants to reminisce about his time inside with someone who hasn’t served hard time. My stint in juvie doesn’t count.
After a short staring match, he reluctantly opens his mouth. “The first sentence I was able to swallow. Had a lot of guilt over Lucky’s death. I survived. He didn’t. Besides, I’d done plenty of shit by that point in my life that could’ve gotten me locked up. I deserved to be there. Karma had finally caught up with me.”
“Like what?”
Grinder’s jaw shifts. His cold eyes bore into mine. “You know better than to ask a brother a question like that.”
“We don’t lie or hide those kinds of truths from each other.” Especially not about deeds done to protect the club.
“You want details? Fine.” He huffs and stares at the sky for so long, I’m about to crack a “how long is the list” joke, when he continues. “The clown your mom was dating back then. The one you asked Lucky and me to scare away?”
“Yeah, what about him?”
“We beat the ever-loving shit out of him to provide the motivation. The kind of beating that could’ve netted me three-to-five, easily.”
That doesn’t surprise or bother me. “He fuckin’ deserved it.”
“We both know that wouldn’t have been a defense.”
“You still didn’t deserve to—”
“Don’t talk to me about what I did or didn’t deserve.” He squeezes his fists tight, then opens his hands and stares at them. “What do you want me to do, Marcel? Live life in reverse? Keep on regretting all the time I lost so I ruin the time I have left?”